


Past Lives

by thesadchicken



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Dysphoria, Emotions, F/F, Femslash, Romance, Trek Femslash Big Bang, Trek Women, lots of 'em
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s nothing left for Ezri Dax on Deep Space Nine. Everything is shadows and flickers of memories. Dust and cobwebs.<br/>But when she leaves the station and accepts a new assignment aboard a doomed Starship, she encounters a ghost from her past lives that she cannot escape – and that changes her irreparably.</p><p>Written for the Trek Femslash Big Bang 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Goodbye, a Promise

**Author's Note:**

> The last chapter of this story is NOT complete. When I posted it I lost half of my work. Stupid as I am, I seemed to have used "cut/paste" instead of "copy/paste". Stupid, I admit.  
> That means that I'm going to have to re-write the last bit of this story. This might take some time, but I'll update it when I'm finished.  
> Sorry, folks!

His eyes are wandering fleetingly across the overcrowded bar, avoiding hers. That’s fine. She chose Quark’s so there would be noise and lights and people, so they would be as far away from each other as possible, so that he would only guess her words and not hear them.

She’s not ashamed. She doesn’t feel guilty. And yet her heart aches to see Julian Bashir reduced to silence, twisting his napkin in his lap. He looks young, so incredibly young and vulnerable. She wonders what Jadzia would’ve done.

“Jadzia would’ve been better at this than me,” she smiles weakly, attempting a joke.

Julian looks up at her sharply, angrily, and she feels his gaze like a blow to the face. But the anger quickly fades away. It’s replaced by something else, something not quite as violent but twice as sad.

“This isn’t about Jadzia,” he breathes.

“No,” she shakes her head apologetically, “no it’s not.”

He licks his lips once. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. She can barely hear him. He says it again, “I’m so sorry, Ezri.”

“It’s not your fault,” she reaches out and covers his hand with hers, “it’s no one’s fault. I just – I _have_ to leave.”

He nods slowly. She knows he understands.

It doesn’t make this any less painful.

~

Ezri shoulders her bag, steps onto the airlock platform and takes a deep breath.

“So this is it?” Kira looks up at her, long eyelashes fluttering frantically, pushing away tears.

Ezri nods, chewing on her lower lip. She’s waiting, still, for a reason to stay. It’s absurd. She has made her choice and she knows it’s the right one, but her mind is in turmoil; memories are whirling around in her head, pinning her feet to the ground. So she stands awkwardly at airlock three, watching Kira swallow back tears, and suddenly she feels the crushing weight of her decision. She knows the choice won’t only affect her, but her friends as well.

For a long time, she thought her presence on Deep Space Nine was perfectly dispensable for the station’s occupants. She was a poor replacement for Jadzia, a pale imitation of the Dax they used to love. Leaving, she thought, would only shake her tiny inner world.

She remembers Benjamin holding her hands to get her attention; he rarely ever held her that way. “What do _you_ think old man? What do _you_ want?” and he cast his piercing dark eyes on her, “ _that_ ’s what matters.”

So yes, this is it. She’s leaving and she’s doing it for herself. For a moment, she thinks of the selfishness of her choice. If Julian’s thinly veiled sorrow wasn’t enough to wipe Ben’s words out of her mind, why should Kira’s fluttering eyelashes? It’s time to leave. Selfish or not, it is her decision. And she will be true to herself this time.

“This is it,” she tells Kira, and she starts to duck into the airlock when Jake Sisko appears at the end of the corridor.

Ezri’s resolve melts. She freezes and watches him as he walks towards her, his face a tight mask of weariness. She wishes she were more stable, she wishes her voice didn’t tremble when she speaks his name, once, slowly, “Jake.”

He’s close now. He’s standing beside Kira, looking utterly betrayed. “I just wish you’d told me before,” he says.

 _‘The boy is gone’_ , Jadzia once told Ben, ‘ _Jake is a man now’_. And here, in front of airlock three, Ezri thinks he has never looked more grown-up. She wants to say she’s sorry, but deep down she’s not. She wants to avoid saying goodbye. She doesn’t want to remember him this way.

Her distress must show on her face, because Jake sighs, closes his eyes and pulls her into a light hug. His uncertainty hurts. His movements are slow, well-calculated; not at all Jake-like. For a moment his chest heaves against hers, but when he pulls back he is expressionless.

“Just come and visit from time to time, okay?” he says evenly, and she can tell he hasn’t forgiven her yet.

“I will,” she replies.

It’s a promise she knows she will keep.


	2. Starting Again

Ezri walks around her new quarters. Her boots click on the clear immaculate Starship floor. Everything is different, clean-cut, just as it should be. She finds herself oddly nostalgic for the horrid Cardassian architecture of Deep Space Nine.

She brushes her fingers against the bedsheets. In the far end of the room she sees a mirror. Her reflection is staring back at her, head cocked to one side, uniform and hair slightly rumpled and shabby.

Sometimes she still expects to see Jadzia in the mirror, tall and confident and beautiful Jadzia, with her piercing blue gaze and her dazzling white smile. But no, Jadzia is gone. She’s far gone and Ezri is alone without her. The thought always manages to confuse her – how can she miss someone she never knew? How can she miss someone she now knows better than she knows herself?

Sometimes Ezri wishes she could slip her entire body through the looking-glass and be one with her reflection.

~

As she walks onto the bridge of the _USS Eclipse_ for the first time, Ezri reflects on how radically opposed to each other a science vessel like this and the _Defiant_ are. The commands are the same, the buttons and screens and flickering lights are unchanged, but everything else differs: the sounds, the lighting, the officers’ carefree manner... Everything is fresh and hopeful. Nothing is dark and threatening. After all, a war ship is meant for war; a science ship for discovery.

Ezri is bewildered by the way her new crewmates dance through the _Eclipse_ ’s corridors. She still has to cling to the walls, her mind instinctively fearing a Jem’Hadar attack. She flinches whenever someone laughs too loud; laughter was not a sound one could often hear ringing through starships during the war. It seems like she’s losing her bearing. Losing her balance. Free falling into the cosmos. And everyone aboard the _Eclipse_ seems only vaguely aware of this.

However, Ezri’s new crewmates treat her with respect. Their politeness exceeds protocol – most of the time, they treat her like a war veteran. Like someone with nothing more to give and nothing more to lose. It makes her feel uneasy.

Hands clasped tightly behind her back, Ezri continues her tour of the Starship. Her guide, a pleasant-faced Bolian ensign, is talking endlessly about the ship’s history. Ezri isn’t really listening. Her mind is elsewhere. Wandering above the stars. Whimsically hoping for a place to put down roots.

She pictures herself a tree. Her leaves are falling. Her roots are rotting. She’s not quite a tree, is she? She’s a tainted piece of log, floating on a sea of icy cold water. Roaming. Lost.

And then Ezri looks up and across the bridge, and her breath catches in her throat. A familiar silhouette moves gracefully from one console unit to the other, and yes, it’s her, Ezri knows it’s her. It’s Lenara Kahn.

Suddenly there’s screaming inside her head, frantic shattering whimpering voices. Her inner selves crash like waves upon the tides of her consciousness, and she can discern every single one of them. She’s dimly aware of the shaking in her hands as she reaches out and touches her Bolian guide lightly on the arm.

“Yes?” the officer asks, eyes-wide, somewhat taken-aback.

“I’m not feeling well, all of a sudden,” Ezri utters, “I’m going back to my quarters.”

“Would you like to go to sickbay first?” the Bolian tilts his head to the side, a look of concern painting his face.

“No, no thanks,” Ezri waves the suggestion away.

She is already somewhere else. She is already somebody else. She does not know whom, but she hopes she can figure it out.

~

Ezri stares blankly at the naked bulkhead of her new quarters, then her gaze falls onto her Starfleet issue shoulder-bag. She hasn’t even begun unpacking. Shaking her head, she pushes herself off her bed, removes her combadge and sets it aside on her nightstand. The whole room seems to be moving around her. She’s starting to feel space sick. Again.

Holding onto the walls, she makes her way to the bathroom and slips out of her uniform. A sonic shower won’t do; she turns on the water and basks for a moment in the pure sensory delight of cool water streaming down her body.

And then her mind snaps into motion, sending her whirling into a pool of conflicting thoughts.

Lenara Kahn is onboard. Ezri didn’t even get the chance to look at her properly: the moment she recognized her, she fled. Suddenly, Ezri feels a burning wave of embarrassment pour over her. She turns the water icy cold, letting it hit her reddening neck and shoulders. She feels foolish for running away; for acting like a child. Jadzia wouldn’t have backed away. Jadzia would’ve walked straight towards Lenara and –

No. She would’ve done no such thing. Lenara walked away from Jadzia, after all. Lenara left. Now it’s only fair that Ezri feels the need to keep her distance.

She leans against the shower door and turns the water off. For a moment, it’s only the sound of her ragged breathing and the gentle pitter-patter of drops falling out of her hair. For the first time since she was given the Dax symbiont, Ezri doesn’t feel the clattering noise of her past lives blaming her, accusing her of being unworthy, undeserving, _not the Dax we used to know, not the Dax we used to love…_

She steps out of the shower, grabs a towel and wraps it around her chest. Whatever happens, this is now her life, and she won’t let anything take that away from her. This is her new beginning, her new ship, her new crewmates, and she deserves to be herself. Her bare feet slap against the floor as she makes her way through her quarters. No matter what, she is going to be true to herself. And only to herself.

~

The _Eclipse_ ’s corridors are larger than the _Defiant_ ’s, and yet Ezri manages to bump into someone on her way to the bridge.

“I’m sorry,” she looks up from the PADD she’s reading, twisting her eyebrows apologetically.

“No harm done,” gray eyes glimmer back at her.

 Ezri’s breath catches in her throat as she stares at the woman in front of her. Auburn hair held in a tight bun; brown spots spilling down a delicate neck and onto sharp collarbones; a smiling mouth painted deep purple and that glimmering gaze… _She hasn’t changed_.

“Are you alright –” Lenara Kahn tilts her head slowly to the side, her eyes searching for Ezri’s rank on her uniform, “– Lieutenant?”

Ezri folds her fingers over her PADD nervously. “Um, yes. Just a little slow in the morning,” she nods, willing her voice not to quiver.

“Oh,” Lenara smiles, dimples creasing her cheeks, “I happen to know just the cure for that. The replicator in the mess hall makes the best coffee, and I’m heading there myself.”

Ezri bites her lower lip. “That’s very kind of you but I – I’ve got a lot of work, and, well, um –”

“You’re right,” Lenara interrupts, holding a hand up and closing her eyes in agreement, “I’m sorry, I forget how busy you Starfleet people are. And to be perfectly honest, I’m starting to get a little bored here,” she leans in and adds conspiratorially.

Ezri feels herself blush slightly. The complicity in Lenara’s eyes makes her feel like they never parted. And they never did, she reminds herself. This is the first time Ezri Dax speaks to Lenara Kahn. “Trouble with your research?” she asks before she can think better of it.

“Not really, it’s just that these things take time and I have nobody to talk to while waiting,” Lenara answers, then she frowns, “How did you know about my research?”

“Um, well,” Ezri stumbles on her words, bouncing slightly on her heels, “I just kind of guessed, because, you know, you serve at the Trill Science Ministry and all –”

Lenara’s eyes light up. “Of course, that’s where I saw you! You were at the conference back on Trill last month, weren’t you? I knew you looked familiar.”

Ezri taps her fingers on her PADD, looking for something to say next. Lenara spares her the effort by reaching her hand out. “Lenara Kahn,” she needlessly introduces herself.

Ezri shakes the hand offered to her tentatively. “Ezri… Ezri Tigan,” she blurts out.

“Nice to meet you, Ezri,” Lenara beams, her fingers lingering over Ezri’s wrist before she pulls back and shyly replaces a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“I guess I should be going,” Ezri clumsily gestures ahead, trying to conceal the obvious blush that now painted her cheeks.

“Yes, of course,” Lenara says, motioning to get out of the way.

The ship suddenly shakes and lurches violently, sending both Trill swiveling against the bulkhead. Ezri’s PADD hits the floor with a loud clatter as her eyes land on Lenara’s face, twisted in pain.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“What in the name of Sef was that?” Lenara brushes away her question with another.

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling we’re about to find out,” Ezri says as the red alert blasts out its dreaded warning alarm.

The ship heaves again, hurling them forward. Ezri’s combadge hisses and the captain’s voice comes through, panicked and out of breath, “All hands to emergency escape pods. We are being attacked by the Borg. All hands abandon ship. Repeat: all hands abandon ship!”

The _Eclipse_ starts shaking in earnest, flinging Ezri and Lenara from side to side. They turn to each other, looks of terror spreading over their faces.

“We gotta get out of here,” Ezri yells over the wheezing hum of the ship’s engines.

“The closest escape pod is two decks below us, so we better get moving,” Lenara pushes herself up and onto her feet.

“Lead the way,” Ezri nods, following her down the corridor.

The shaking of the ship makes their trip to the escape pod a series of falls and crashes, and Ezri’s heart pounds in her chest as the horror of the situation creeps into her mind. She keeps her eyes locked on the back of Lenara’s head and tries to steady the stream of terrifying thoughts taking over her brain. _The Borg_ – _no mercy, no chance of escape, just cold resignation, and resistance is futile_ …

They’re running through the ship’s corridors, skipping over broken bulkhead and avoiding protruding electrical circuits. As they reach the turbolift, Lenara turns towards Ezri, squinting and panting.

“The lift isn’t working,” she yells over the cacophony of sounds engulfing the ship.

Another violent lurch sends Ezri reeling against Lenara, who catches her by the waist and pulls her close. Their bodies pressed together, their hearts thumping wildly against each other’s chests – the familiarity of the situation is oddly reassuring, and Ezri allows herself a brief moment of peace as she surrenders to the warmth of Lenara’s arms around her. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before pulling back slightly.

“I know another way down,” she says, “Intrepid-class ships aren’t that tricky.”

She moves a few paces away from the turbolift, running her fingers over the wall. “In here,” she cries out in triumph, “a Jefferies tube junction. We can crawl through the tubes all the way down to the escape pod.”

Lenara nods, her brows knitted in a worried frown. Ezri crawls through the narrow passageway and enters the junction. She waits for Lenara to do the same, then she starts climbing down the ladder, making sure to hold onto the bars each time the ship shakes. She looks up from time to time to check on Lenara.

Breathless and sweating, the two women finally reach another junction. Quickly, they scramble out of it and into a new corridor. Ezri helps Lenara up as she scans their surroundings. Down the hallway, she sees an escape pod securely stowed in its hatch.

“Let’s go,” she tugs at Lenara’s sleeve.

Just as they reach the hatch, three other crewmembers appear at the end of the corridor. Ezri waves them over. “Quick, we don’t have much time!” she yells at them, then she turns towards Lenara, “go ahead, get in and start the launching sequence, I’ll be there in a minute.”

The three crewmembers hurry through the corridor. Ezri recognizes one of them – her guide, the Bolian ensign. The two others are visibly human, and possibly injured: the Bolian locks his arms around both their waists and drags them forward as fast as he can. Ezri hurries to help.

“Thank the gods you found us, Lieutenant,” the Bolian rasps, panting, “I don’t think we would’ve made it alone.”

Another blast shakes the ships. Ezri holds one of the humans up and drags them forward. “Let’s just hope we can get out of here in one piece,” she mumbles, bracing herself on the wall to avoid falling.

They reach the hatch and clamber into the escape pod just in time to hear the captain’s final orders through their combadges. “This is Captain Rania Al’Hizem. I am activating the self-destruct sequence.”

Ezri lets herself fall onto one of the pilot seats next to Lenara. “Are we ready to leave?” she asks, her breath coming out in short grating puffs.

“Yes,” Lenara answers, her eyes on the console. She presses one final button and the escape pod’s doors slam shut.

The tiny craft blasts off into space. Ezri looks out the view screen and for a moment, she’s oddly mesmerized by the horrific sight in front of her: the _USS Eclipse_ , slowly fading away in the distance, and a Borg cube blocking the horizon, immense and deadly, its toxic green lights seeming to suck every ounce of life out of the universe. In comparison, the _Eclipse_ looks small, defenseless; almost ridiculous. Then a green missile shoots out of the Borg cube, hitting the back of the starship, and Ezri snaps out of her contemplation. She looks down at the controls.

“Why aren’t the thrusters at maximum power?” she asks, desperation tainting her voice, “We’re barely even moving!”

“This is the best I can do,” Lenara shakes her head in frustration. Beside her, the Bolian ensign is leaning on the console, twiddling nervously with the commands.

“There seems to be a problem with the escape pod,” he says, biting his lower lip, then he turns towards Ezri with a crazed look in his eyes, “If we don’t go any faster we’ll be caught in the explosion when the _Eclipse_ auto-destructs.”

Ezri jumps out of the chair and strides through the small vessel. At the very back, she kneels down and pulls open a trapdoor in the wall. Inside, circuits hum and whine. _No time to overthink this_. She takes a good look then shoves her arm inside, feeling around for the right cable. _Tobin was good at this_ , she tells herself for reassurance. She feels an indignant scoff in the back of her head. _Alright, Tobin was_ excellent _at this – a very talented engineer_. There, maybe humoring the sliver of Tobin’s past life that’s still stuck in her head might bring her luck.

Her palm falls onto the right cable and, without allowing herself much thought, she yanks at it. It comes loose with a loud tearing noise, and Ezri falls backwards onto her behind, the cable grasped firmly in her fist. The escape pod darts forward.

“What did you do?” the Bolian yells from the other end of the ship.

Ezri gets on her feet and hurries back to the pilot chair. “No time to explain now. We have to get to safety.”

“There’s an M class planetoid straight ahead,” Lenara looks up from the scanners, hope gleaming in her eyes.

“Then we keep going straight ahead,” Ezri nods, and for a moment it seems like they might just make it.

“Alright, I’m going to take care of Lieutenant Chevalier – he’s badly injured,” the Bolian says, leaping towards the back of the escape pod where the two humans lie, quiet so far.

Ezri is too concentrated on the commands to answer. She makes sure life support is fully functional; getting to safety won’t be of any use to them if they can’t breathe. Once that’s done, she looks up at Lenara and sees her staring out the view screen at the Borg cube, wide-eyed and horror-stricken. Ezri reaches over the console and touches Lenara’s elbow.

“You okay?” she whispers.

Lenara runs her hand over her face. “I will be.”

At that moment, a glaring burst of red light blinds them and a violent wave of energy shakes the escape pod. Ezri holds onto her seat and closes her eyes.

“The _Eclipse_ exploded!” she hears Lenara scream over the deafening sound of engines screeching and metal scraping metal.

Ezri opens her eyes and stares at the commands. Everything has gone blank, from life support controls to sensors. The small craft is dead in space, and yet it’s still being propelled forward by the sheer force of the explosion.

“We’re going to be hit by debris,” Ezri says out loud, more to herself than to anyone else. She’s panicking and she knows it, but her hands just won’t stop shaking, no matter how hard she tries to calm herself.

Lenara is clinging to the console unit, gazing out the view screen with terrified wonder. “I can’t see a thing. Only the explosion,” she mutters weakly.

“Then brace yourself for impact at any time,” Ezri yells, realizing that they might crash right into the M class planetoid they were heading to.

Something hits the escape pod squarely in its right flank. The tiny vessel reels around wildly, sending its occupants jolting into the bulkhead. The last thing Ezri remembers is Lenara’s eyes, impossibly green in the light of the explosion, before the world around her goes dark.


	3. Covering Centuries

Ezri opens her eyes just a crack. Soft yellow light trickles in. For a small, fragile moment, she feels weightless, like she might float off the ground. The ground. The cold, hard ground.

Ezri’s eyelids flutter and she frowns as sensation slowly slips back into her limbs. She feels dry grass pressing into her skin, scraping her cheek and neck. Her whole body is aching. She brings her right hand up and rubs her eyes before she finally opens them.

She’s lying on muddy gray grass. Around her there are tall dry trees and brown alien vegetation; the whole landscape looks dead. And yet the sun is beaming down on it, unaware of its bareness and desolation.

Ezri groans in pain as she pushes herself off the ground. Her left arm is sore and she wobbles on her feet when she tries to stand. Her uniform is tattered and torn at the knees and elbows, and her combadge is nowhere to be seen, but other than that she seems fine.

She looks around. Starting at her feet and spreading towards the horizon is arid, empty land. The sky is black as coal with a single, huge, paint splattered heap of light slicing through it. _The explosion_ , Ezri thinks, and all at once everything comes back to her. _The escape pod. The crew._

 _Lenara_.

Ezri takes a few careful steps forward. Her left thigh throbs, but she knows the injury is superficial. In the light of the explosion, she notices that she landed at the end of a rather steep slope. On the other side of it, smoke oozes up into the night sky. She manages to climb the hill, although her head hurts and the world swivels under her boots. She peers down the other end of the slope and sees the escape pod, slashed in half, its circuits catching fire in parts.

Three bodies are scattered on the ground around the craft.

Ezri hurries towards the first body. The Bolian ensign. She flips him over. His eyes are closed and a trickle of blue blood drips from his nose. She checks for a pulse. He’s dead.

The second body is one of the humans. She’s not dead.

“Lieutenant Chevalier?” Ezri recognizes her.

The lieutenant moans in response. Ezri pats her upper body and legs, looking for injuries. She finds more than a few.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” she whispers as she inspects the whimpering lieutenant, “Everything’s going to be okay,” she says it more to herself than to anyone else.

She can’t lift Chevalier, Ezri realizes. She can’t even move her without risking injuring her further. She might even have internal injuries. Eyes closed, lips dry and splintered, the lieutenant mumbles something.

“Shhh,” Ezri tries to soothe her, gently stroking the young woman’s sweat-drenched forehead, “I’ll be back in a second. I have to check on the others.”

She gets up and leans over the third body. It’s the other human officer, someone she doesn’t know. _And will never know_ , she thinks as she lets go of the officer’s lifeless wrist. She feels sick, but she pulls herself together. She can fall apart when everyone is safe.

The escape pod got sliced in two during the crash. One half is completely destroyed, twisting and folding over itself like a piece of wet paper. The other half is less damaged, but the top is open and smoke is leaking out of it. Ezri walks towards it. Her throat tightens and she feels her stomach churn. Then she peers inside.

Lenara is sprawled over one of the consoles, her arms sticking out in weird angles. Ezri runs inside and immediately grabs Lenara by the waist, lifting her and placing her head in her lap. She checks her neck for a pulse, heart racing.

“I’m alive,” Lenara croaks, and Ezri holds her to her chest and closes her eyes.

“I thought I’d lost you again,” she hears herself say, and she doesn’t care, she can’t care, Lenara’s alive, nothing else matters.

“Never,” Lenara whispers weakly, “never again.”

She loses consciousness in Ezri’s arms.

~

Ezri sits in the darkness and listens to the night. Everything is calm, and yet she’s scared. The wind is hissing at her, and she thinks she can hear all the creatures crawling soundlessly in the distance. She knows nothing about the small planetoid they’ve crashed onto. She knows the _Eclipse_ was heading to the Mutara Nebula before the Borg attacked. Deep space. Far from any Starfleet outpost. Far from any friendly planet. They are alone in space.

The only thing Ezri is certain of now is that the Borg won’t bother to come after them. A doomed escape pod carrying five people? Hardly worth the detour.

Lieutenant Chevalier moans in her medically-induced sleep. Ezri checks on her, placing her palm on the young woman’s forehead. She’s burning up.

Earlier, when Lenara lost consciousness, Ezri panicked. She tried to wake her up, tried to get her to say something, but it was useless. So Ezri searched the half-escape pod frantically for an emergency medical kit. She found two of those, and four blankets with them. Under one of the broken pilot seats she found Starfleet rations. She laid Lenara down on one of the blankets and hurried over to Lieutenant Chevalier. She used a hypospray to numb the lieutenant’s pain.

After that, Ezri hurried towards the console unit, hoping it would at least work enough to send out a distress call. For the first time, luck seemed to be on her side; the console unit sent a Starfleet distress call on all channels. The signal looked weak, but it would have to do.

And now here she is, sitting next to Chevalier in the open air, staring out into nothingness. Without proper medical care, the lieutenant will be dead by morning. Lenara is sleeping inside the half-escape pod. Ezri wants to cry.

She doesn’t sleep. She’s too afraid and in too much pain to close her eyes. Dawn comes with a wave of unexpected heat. Ezri covers Lieutenant Chevalier’s shivering body with a blanket before walking back into the escape pod to check on Lenara.

 “Who’s there? What happened?” Lenara’s voice is hoarse and frightened – she’s still lying down in the spot Ezri chose for her, gripping the blanket and trembling.

Ezri hurries to her side and kneels down next to her. “It’s me, it’s Ezri,” she says, reaching out to touch Lenara’s forearm, “We crashed, the _Eclipse_ self-destructed…”

Lenara’s eyes scan the damaged escape pod with growing panic. Then her gaze falls onto Ezri, and she frowns. “Ezri?” she breathes, and she seems to be trying to remember exactly who Ezri is.

“It’s okay,” Ezri reassures her.

“I remember,” Lenara closes her eyes, “I remember now. We were talking, we were safe, and then just like that…”

Ezri nods bitterly. “Yes. Just like that.” During the war, she learned that bad things usually happen ‘just like that’. No one knows why or how or when a disaster is going to appear out of nowhere and burn everything to the ground. It just happens. _Just like that_.

Ezri knows this, but to Lenara it seems like a shocking realization. Ezri places her hand gently on Lenara’s shoulder. “We’re going to be alright,” she says, although she’s not sure she believes it herself.

Lenara’s eyes flutter open. “The others?” she whispers, her voice heavy with tears.

“Two of them died. Lieutenant Chevalier is badly injured. I don’t think she’s going to make it –”

“Where is she?” Lenara blurts out anxiously.

“She’s outside, I couldn’t – I can’t move her, I don’t even know how serious her injuries are, and we don’t have a medical tricorder –”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Lenara grips Ezri by the elbows with both her hands and pulls herself upright. “What are you doing?” Ezri shakes her head, watching as Lenara wavers on her legs.

“I need to help her.”

“You’re going to drain yourself.”

“I can _help her_.”

 Lenara makes her way across the ruined escape pod, Ezri hovering by her side, making sure she doesn’t fall over. “I’ve done everything I could Lenara, it’s hopeless –”

“One of my previous hosts was a doctor. I can help; I know I can help her,” Lenara repeats stubbornly, panting as she walks out into the faint light of the rising sun.

Ezri can’t argue with that. She knows she would’ve done the same in Lenara’s position. She also knows that Lenara _needs_ this; she needs to believe that Lieutenant Chevalier can be saved, that space isn’t just a wild, cold, hopeless place where Borg ships appear out of nowhere and people die of their injuries on desolate planetoids. She needs to believe that hope isn’t abandoned, _just like that_. And if Lenara thinks she can heal Lieutenant Chevalier, then Ezri is going to believe it too.

The two women fall onto their knees next to the lieutenant’s trembling frame. The human looks abnormally pale; her lips are tainted a blueish hue and sweat trickles down her forehead.

“I can help her,” Lenara mutters, and her frantic mood changes into something entirely different: suddenly she’s calm, concentrated, absorbed in her task.

Ezri sits back and watches. She watches Lenara’s hands working, precise, quick, graceful, gentle – she watches Lieutenant Chevalier’s eyes flutter open, looking for something, finding it, holding on to it. Lenara’s face is a lifeboat. Ezri knows it – Ezri felt it before, or was it Jadzia, or Torias?

The lieutenant relaxes as Lenara’s fingers work their way across her body, fixing her, comforting her, making it better. And _by Sef_ , Ezri can swear she feels those same hands on her own body, _making everything better_. She stares breathlessly. Lenara’s brow is furrowed; she knows what she’s doing. She knows where she’s going.

But Ezri is lost.

Her heart thumps in her chest. A million questions twirl inside her; her stomach is twisting in knots. She doesn’t even know who she is. Right now, staring at Lenara Kahn on a barren planetoid, who is she? Whatever control she thought she had on her own identity is lost. Lost, completely, hopelessly lost. She clutches at it desperately – _I am Ezri, I have two brothers, a mother, blue eyes, brown hair, I am Ezri, Ezri Dax_ … She stops, fingers digging into the muddy ground beneath her. Dax, she is Dax. And that’s probably what’s making her lose her way.

She thought she figured it out. The voices are clear in her head; she thought she knew which one is hers. But now she’s not so sure anymore.

Lenara turns towards her suddenly. “I need a hypospray,” she says, her voice oddly calm.

“I’ll get it right away,” Ezri nods.

She runs towards the escape pod. She grabs an emergency medical kit, a blanket and four Starfleet rations. When she gets back to Lenara and Lieutenant Chevalier, the sun is high is the sky.

“Here,” Ezri holds a hypospray out.

Lenara takes it hastily and presses it to the lieutenant’s neck. The young woman closes her eyes. Lenara falls back onto her backside with a sigh.

They sit there in silence for a long moment. Ezri doesn’t dare look up. She wishes she could hug Lenara to her chest. She wishes she could find warmth and comfort in those arms. She wishes she knew who exactly wants to hold Lenara. Ezri? Jadzia? Torias? A weird, perverted combination of them all?

She feels a rush of shame burn her cheeks and the back of her neck. How could she be thinking of such things when Lieutenant Chevalier’s life is on the line? And although she knows there is no way Lenara could’ve heard her selfish inner monologue, Ezri wants to bury her head in the ground.

“Will she live?” she asks bluntly, still not looking up.

“I hope so,” Lenara breathes.

There’s another moment of silence. The sun seems to be burning holes into their skins. Ezri finally looks up.

“We better find shelter.”

“Our best shot is the escape pod,” Lenara says, looking around the deserted plain.

“Can we lift her?” Ezri gestures towards Lieutenant Chevalier.

“I think it’s safe.”

“She’ll be better inside.”

“Yes. We’ll all be better inside.”

“Alright. Let’s go.”

~

It all feels so familiar, although Ezri is positive she has never been in a situation that even resembles this one before. She’s sitting with her back against the bulkhead, her knees pulled up against her chest, a half-consumed Starfleet ration in her hand. Across from her is Lieutenant Chevalier’s inert body, breathing steadily. On her right is Lenara Kahn, bundled-up in a tattered blanket even though it’s hot outside.

Maybe it’s the lingering memories of the Dominion war. Being vulnerable, helpless, alone in hostile and empty places. Yes, that’s definitely familiar.

Lenara’s arm brushes her. Ezri turns towards her. The light filtering through the great gape in the back of the escape pod casts a healthy light over Lenara’s face; she looks just as elegant and natural here as she did back on the _Eclipse_ , or even years ago, on Deep Space Nine.

The memory of Deep Space Nine makes Ezri feel like she might hurl the rations she ingurgitated all over herself. If she didn’t go looking for whatever grand adventure she thought she’d find out here, she wouldn’t be stranded in space. She’d be safe and sound in her quarters.

And Lenara would be alone here.

Ezri closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to say anything, but something inside her pulls the word out of her anyway. “Are you okay?”

She hears Lenara sigh heavily. She opens her eyes. “Lenara? Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that question,” Lenara’s voice is tired.

“Sorry. It was a stupid question.”

“No, that’s alright. I guess you needed the conversation,” Lenara says kindly, “I can’t blame you. It’s getting creepy around here.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Ezri scrapes some dust off her uniform sleeve.

More silence. Weary, viscous silence draping itself over them. Then Lenara speaks.

“So what are we going to do?”

Ezri straightens up. She wants to look like she knows what she’s doing. Mostly, she wants Lenara to feel safe. “I’ve sent out a distress call to all channels. We have blankets and medical equipment and enough rations to last seven days. Maybe eight if we pace ourselves.”

“So we wait for someone to rescue us for eight days.”

“Yes.”

“And then we die of hunger?”

Ezri bites her lower lip and winces. “Worst case scenario.”

“What’s the best scenario? We get eaten by alien beasts?”

Ezri keeps quiet. She feels incredibly stupid.

“I’m sorry,” Lenara shakes her head, “I’m just… just –”

 _Just_. A feeling impossible to describe. Yes, Ezri knows exactly what that means.

“It’s alright. It’s not easy, all this,” Ezri says, trying to sound reassuring.

“You say that like this isn’t the first time you’re stranded on a desert planet,” Lenara remarks.

“Well,” Ezri starts, taking a deep breath, “I was regularly in the front line during the Dominion war.”

Lenara turns to face her, a bewildered look on her face. “Really?”

“I know what you’re thinking. I don’t look like a war veteran, do I?”

“Not really,” Lenara says uneasily, then she takes a bite from her Starfleet ration and adds, “That must’ve been terrible.”

“It was. It still is, in a way.” The horrors still hunt Ezri at night.

“Is being in the front line really comparable to being stranded on a planet?” Lenara frowns, looking concerned.

Ezri stares at her boots. “It feels the same.”

“So you’re a soldier,” Lenara says, and Ezri can hear the disdain in her voice.

“I’m a counselor,” Ezri looks up sharply, “But in the war Starfleet needed whoever could hold a rifle. I’m not excusing what happened – the killing, the fighting, the destruction – it’s just that… well, the war happened. That’s it. There’s nothing I could’ve done about it. And now it’s over.”

Lenara looks slightly apologetic. Her eyelids flutter frantically. “Is it ever really over?”

Ezri looks straight into Lenara’s eyes. The motion sends electric waves coursing down her spine. “No. Never really,” she answers weakly, “and I hate that.”

Nobody speaks for a while. At the other end of the escape pod, Lieutenant Chevalier moans and rubs her back. Outside, the sun is flashing down onto the plain.

“Did you hate the people you were killing?” Lenara whispers, almost as if it were a secret.

“I wasn’t killing people. I was surviving,” Ezri explained, “I didn’t hate or love anything or anyone. I just tried to stay alive, and keep the people I loved alive too.”

The last sentence seems to make Lenara feel guilty, because she lowers her gaze and fumbles with the hem of her torn tunic. “I think I can understand that,” she says, then she laughs nervously, “What I wouldn’t give to see my brother again.”

Ezri remembers Lenara’s brother. Or rather, Jadzia remembered him. Ezri just remembers what Jadzia saw. Lenara’s brother, with his nervousness and awkwardness, eyeing the room, making sure they weren’t doing anything inappropriate. And although ultimately, the choice was entirely Lenara’s, Ezri can’t feel anything but contempt for the brother. He played a part in what happened, no sense in denying it.

“Do you have any siblings?” Lenara asks, oblivious to Ezri’s inner turmoil.

“Two brothers,” Ezri replies, her throat tightening, “I wish I could see them too. Things haven’t been easy between us lately…”

“Things have never been easy between me and my brother, but he looks out for me.”

Ezri bites the inside of her cheeks. She doesn’t want to discuss this. She doesn’t want to hear Lenara defend her brother. She doesn’t want to be reminded of how Lenara left her – no, Jadzia, she left Jadzia. Ezri has nothing to do with any of this.

Is that why she told Lenara her last name is _Tigan_? Is that why Ezri lied – not exactly, not really, after all her name used to be Tigan, once upon a time, and what harm can it do now? It’s too late anyway.

“Now that I think of it, the only thing I know about you is your name,” Lenara says, echoing Ezri’s thoughts in a rather eerie way, “Ezri Tigan, counselor turned soldier turned counselor again, two brothers, stuck on a desert planetoid. What else is there to know?”

Ezri smiles. This is the Lenara Kahn she remembers; easy-going, carefree, curious… lovely, even now, even here, with her hair undone and falling in disorder over her forehead and into her eyes. A nasty bruise is crawling from her cheek down to her neck, making her spots look dark blue. Ezri wants to brush her knuckles gently over the bruise, or place her lips at the base of Lenara’s neck and whisper something into her ear…

“Not much to know,” she answers distractedly, shrugging, “Except if you don’t mind long and boring descriptions of horrid childhoods,” she adds jokingly.

“Try me,” Lenara smiles back.


	4. Falling Again

It’s early morning on their second day and the heat is already unbearable. Ezri checks on Lieutenant Chevalier; her fever dropped during the night.

Lenara is standing at the lip of the gaping hole in the escape pod, looking out into the plain. Ezri walks up to her and stands beside her. They’re roughly the same height; _it’s strange to look at her from here_ , Ezri thinks. She remembers Lenara being distinctly shorter than her – no, than Jadzia.

“Chevalier’s fever dropped,” she announces.

Lenara nods, her eyes locked on the horizon. “That’s good news.”

“What are you thinking?” Ezri asks.

“Hmm?” Lenara frowns.

“What were you thinking, just now?”

“That’s an odd question.”

“It’s an odd situation.”

Lenara pouts. “Alright,” she says reluctantly, “If you must know, I was thinking of my life. Of what it could’ve been. Of all my regrets…”

Ezri clears her throat. “We’re not dead yet.”

“Not yet,” Lenara smiles, but there is no joy in her face.

“Do you have a lot of regrets?” Ezri says, although she knows she shouldn’t push the conversation in this direction.

Lenara leans onto the bulkhead and looks at Ezri. “A few. I regret the last thing I said to my father before he died. I regret having hurt a friend. I regret mistakes I’ve made.”

“Mistakes?” Ezri asks. It comes out a little too eager, a little too hopeful.

“Yes. In my research. I could’ve done so much better, if only I had worked harder…”

Ezri tries to ignore the sting of tears behind her eyes. “I’m sure you did your best,” she says flatly.

“Sometimes that just isn’t enough,” Lenara sighs, “Do you have any regrets?”

“I’m not sure,” Ezri replies.

And it’s the entire truth.

~

It’s raining. Whatever planetoid they landed on, its weather is crazy, Ezri decides.

They’ve been here for three days. No answer from space; just dead, cold silence. They already feel the decrease in the number of rations left like a cruel reminder of how desperate they are.

On the bright side, Lieutenant Chevalier seems to be doing better. She wakes up from time to time, eats, drinks and exchanges a few words with them before falling back to sleep. Still, Ezri can’t help but feel despair creeping into her head with every passing hour. She feels like she might lose her mind.

The small space of the half-destroyed escape pod is no longer enough. She needs to get out.

“I’m going for a walk,” she announces, just as Lenara reaches for her second ration of the day.

“It’s raining.”

“I know,” Ezri grabs a blanket and peers outside, “but if I don’t die of hunger I’m going to die of boredom in here.”

Lenara blinks at her. “Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere. Up the hill there,” Ezri points forward.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Me neither, but waiting here hopelessly isn’t doing us any good.”

“Alright, I’m coming with you,” Lenara pushes herself off the broken pilot’s chair he’s been sitting on.

“You don’t have to,” Ezri says, hoping Lenara would come anyway.

“I feel like I do.”

~

The rain isn’t that bad. The blankets are waterproof, and by holding them over their heads the two women manage to stay dry. But the wind is terrible. It only takes a few minutes for it to rip the blanket out of Lenara’s hands.

“Come here,” Ezri yells over the howling of the wind, “We can share mine.”

They walk up the hill, both holding a single blanket over their heads. Their bodies brush slightly, and the contact makes Ezri ache for more. She glances at Lenara. Lenara glances back.

“I wish I could hate you for making me come out here with you,” she says, trying – and failing – to suppress a teasing smile.

Ezri frowns playfully. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I can’t afford to hate the only person I know on this empty rock,” Lenara explains.

“That’s nice to hear. I didn’t make you come out here by the way; you followed me.”

“You persuaded me.”

“Really? How’s that?”

“You had that gleam in your eyes,” Lenara smiles, and then suddenly her gaze seems to float over Ezri, and she blushes, “It’s funny. Sometimes you look at me, or say my name, and it’s so familiar… I have the strangest feeling.”

Ezri kicks a rock nervously. “Oh?”

“Yes. Like I’ve known you before.” Lenara stops, making Ezri come to a sudden halt in an effort to keep the blanket in one piece, “That was such a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry, Ezri, that was – I know what that must’ve – it’s just that…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ezri tries to laugh it off, but her stomach twists in protest.

They walk in silence until they reach the top of the hill. They can’t help but run the last few steps up excitedly, hoping for something, _anything_ beyond the endless sea of nothing. But when they stare down the hill, that is exactly what greets them. Nothing. Just more and more barren land.

They walk back to the escape pod under the thinning rain. “I’ve always loved the rain,” Lenara looks up at the sky in wonder, “My father never let us out when it was raining. He said we’d get sick.”

“I’m not your father,” Ezri grins, “And I don’t think a little rain would kill us.” She pulls the blanket out of Lenara’s grasp and onto her shoulders. “There.”

Lenara laughs – like a chiming bell, beautiful, uncensored laughter pouring out of her. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Ezri gives in to her first impulse and grabs Lenara’s hand. “Race me to the escape pod.”

“How is it a race if we’re holding hands?”

“Don’t argue, just run.”

~

It’s still raining, but the wind seems to have abated. The race made them both feel better; as a counselor, Ezri knows the benefits of unlocking emotions through a positive physical outburst, so this comes as no surprise.

Ezri checks on Chevalier again. She seems to be fast asleep.

At the other end of the escape pod, Ezri can hear Lenara ruffling her wet clothes and throwing them over the pilot’s seat to dry. It isn’t cold, but the wind is still howling outside. Ezri wriggles out of her soaked uniform and wraps herself in a blanket, then she realizes it’s the last dry blanket they have. She feels her face turn a deep red.

“Um, Lenara?” she calls out shyly.

“Yes?” the other woman answers, her voice muffled by the pilot’s seat she’s hiding behind.

“We only have one spare blanket… I think you should have it.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence as they both realize the implications of that. If Lenara covers herself with the last remaining blanket that would mean Ezri would have to walk around the escape pod naked. She blushes even harder at the thought.

“I’ll just keep my uniform. It’ll dry eventually,” she adds quickly.

Lenara clears her throat. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll catch a cold, and the last thing we need now is a sick castaway sneezing germs all over our only shelter.”

Ezri laughs wholeheartedly. “What do you suggest we do?”

“We can share,” Lenara’s voice tries to hold on to its teasing tone, but it wavers slightly.

“Sure,” Ezri shrugs, but it doesn’t sound as nonchalant as she wants it to.

Lenara grabs her wet tunic and covers her upper body with it before stepping out from behind the pilot’s seat. Ezri sits down with her back against the bulkhead, pointedly looking away. She holds half the blanket over her chest and offers the other half to Lenara.

The rain’s incessant pitter-patter isn’t nearly as annoying as it was a few minutes ago. Ezri feels Lenara’s skin brush against hers as she sits down next to her.

“How’s Chevalier?” Lenara asks.

“Much better. We’ll have to wake her up later though; she needs to eat a bit more.”

“I’m glad the pain is gone. She even smiled at us yesterday.”

“It’s all thanks to you,” Ezri looks over at Lenara.

“It’s thanks to Jarell’s medical training,” Lenara shrugs.

“Jarell?” Ezri pretends not to know, and instantly feels bad about it.

“Oh, my previous host. The doctor,” Lenara explains.

Of course Ezri knows. Lenara told Jadzia all about Jarell, and Karob, and Zidee, and how Nilani would’ve adored Lenara, if only they’d met.

Lying to Lenara feels wrong, and yet Ezri can’t bring herself to tell her the truth. How would she react? Would she mourn Jadzia? Would she reject Ezri? It all seems so unfair. Will the shadow of Ezri’s past lives follow her forever? Will she never get the chance to be herself, once in her ninth lifetime?


End file.
